Time Of Your Life
by SecretLifeOfABlonde
Summary: Katherine of Aragon died, leaving Henry VIII a widow. He married Jane Seymour but it seems she is unable to have a boy. But when dark, mysterious Anne Boleyn comes to court, is it going to be Charles Brandon or Henry who captures her heart?
1. The Birth Of A Prince?

Fanfiction of the Tudors

Pairings: Henry VIII and Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn and Charles Brandon.

_**This is an AU. My brain, my ideas. If you don't like the story, don't read it. If you have any questions about this story, just put it in a review and I'll try and answer as soon as possible. **_

_**There are a few differences in this story. I have made Henry VIII's and Charles Brandon's birthdates later so it fits in the story. Also Princess Mary lives with her sister (not Elizabeth) happily. And most important of all, Katherine of Aragon died leaving Henry VIII a widow. He chose to marry Jane Seymour. **_

_**I hope that wasn't too confusing.**_

_**Disclaimer – I own nothing except my ideas and my imagination. If I did own the Tudors, Anne Boleyn would be alive and happy with Elizabeth.**_

_**I got the title of this because I was struggling to think of one, then Time Of Your Life by Greenday came onto my song's playlist and BOOM! TITLE!**_

Time Of Your Life

Whitehall Palace, 2nd May 1534

_A different kind of pain. Is someone there to hold you? Is someone there to take you away from me? _

_- A Different Kind Of Pain by Cold._

"It's coming! The head's crowning. You need to push! Push, your Majesty!" exclaimed Lady Eleanor, wiping the queen's sweaty pale face with a dirty off-white rag.

"Joan! Run now and get Doctor Linacre. Hurry, the babe's stuck" yelled Eleanor Plight, her face draining of colour as she watched Lady Joan scurry off for medical help.

"What's wrong? What's wrong with my son?" shrieked Jane, her pretty green eyes glistening with tears, her pale hands clutching the sheets as she squirmed in agony.

Lady Joan rushed back in and instructed Jane to calm herself. Lady Eleanor scrapped Jane's damp blonde curls from her face, which was sticky from tears and sweat.

"Mistress Alice, more towels please". Eleanor ordered the scared fourteen year old into action while she disposed of soiled bedding.

"Don't tell me to calm myself, you childless wretch!" Jane screeched, her attractive face twisting into an ugly grimace. She wasn't usually like this. Usually she was sweet and kind, meek and mild. But the pain was getting to her.

Joan spun round, scorn evident on her pretty face.

"Sister" Eleanor was quick to attempt to pacify her older sister who was cursed with an awful temper.

"No, Ellie. She deserves a talking to. She acts so simpering and sweet when we all know she's only a whore. She acts so high and mighty just because his Majesty picked her as a wife after his beloved wife, good queen Katherine, passed away" hissed Joan, who had always been jealous of Jane Seymour.

"Joan-y, don't. Doctor Linacre is here" whispered Eleanor grimly, gesturing for Alice to open the door to the doctor.


	2. Troubling Time

Fanfiction of The Tudors

Pairings: Henry VIII/Jane Seymour and Anne Boleyn/Charles Brandon

**This is an AU. If you don't like it, well, don't read it then. If you have any questions about this story leave it in a review and I will try and respond as soon as possible.**

**Sorry for not updating often but school drags and I'm revising for my GCSE's.**

**Disclaimer – I don't anything except my ideas and my imagination. If I did, then Charles Brandon would have been mine! Henry Cavill is yummy: D**

**Massive thanks to my reviewers – obsessivefanno.4, alikat87 and Angel. **

**Also thank you to my favourite -ers and followers 3**

Time Of Your Life

Whitehall Palace, 2nd May, 1534

'_A lonely speaker in a conversation, her words are spinning through his ears again, there's nothing wrong with a taste of what you've paid for'_

_The ballad of Mona Lisa by Panic At The Disco!_

A large man entered the room, sweat already appearing on his heavy brow, his hands nervously twisting the sides of his dirty satchel in his large hands. Women's chambers were usually forbidden to men during childbirth unless there were serious problems. He sighed, praying he'd keep his head if the baby didn't make it.

He looked anxiously at the four ladies in the dim, warm room.

Lady Eleanor Plight was by the edge of the bed, crouched by the raised bloodied sheets, monitoring the baby's progress. Her deep red hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her already sharp and plain face seem more severe.

Mistress Alice Watson was sitting at the top of the large king sized bed, wiping Jane's sweaty forehead. Alice's golden curls fell over her shoulders, giving the impression of a halo. Linacre noted that she seemed to be the only supportive person in the room. Her deep brown eyes were encouraging and kind.

Her Majesty was screaming in the middle of the bed. Her usual pale skin was bright red from exhaustion. Her pretty green eyes were streaming with tears and her blonde waves were pressed against her damp face. She twitched in agony.

Lady Joan Banks, the pretty fire headed one who had fetched him from his game of chess, took his cloak and offered him a pint of ale which he refused. He needed to keep his wits around him if the baby was going to have a chance.

"The babe's cord is wrapped round its neck. The poor darlin' has no chance Doctor" whispered Joan, picking at her bitten nails.

"Yellow…yellow for victory. How ironic" laughed Joan bitterly, her fingers dancing over the yellow fabric of her serving dress.

"God save us all" pleaded Linacre as he approached the bed.


	3. Grief of a King

Fanfiction of The Tudors

Pairings: Henry VIII/Jane Seymour and Charles Brandon/Anne Boleyn

**This is an AU. If you don't like it, well, don't read it then. If you have any questions about this story leave it in a review and I will try and respond as soon as possible.**

**Disclaimer – I don't anything except my ideas and my imagination. If I did, then Anne Boleyn wouldn't have been executed. **

**Massive thanks to my reviewers – obsessivefanno.4, alikat87, Angel, Martha, Good Work, Anne, StaryDreams and Guest(s).**

**Also thank you to my favourite -ers and followers :3**

Time Of Your Life

Whitehall Palace, 2nd May, 1534

'_You dance like a queen in spite of all the things you never wanted, when you're left out in the cold'_

_Secret Life by Thriving Ivory_

Henry stood outside his wife's chambers, pacing up and down.

"Your majesty must name him after me" joked his best friend, Charles, watching his friend carefully.

Every time, the seven men (Henry VIII, Charles Brandon, John Seymour, Edward Seymour, Thomas Seymour, Thomas Cromwell and Archbishop Cranmer) heard a shrill piercing scream from the birthing room, they flinched.

"The new prince, MY nephew, will be a credit to your majesty and my little sister. A king to rule all kings" boasted Edward, lifting a goblet to cheer for the birth. As the men lifted their glasses to cheer, the doctor burst out the room, his hands bloody, his face pale.

"I'm sorry" mumbled Linacre, beckoning Henry closer.

Henry shooed away his courtiers, and stumbled forwards, asking to see his son.

"Lady Missledon" called the doctor, motioning for a young woman to come forwards, his eye's refusing to meet the King's.

A pretty woman of about twenty, with long wild brown curls and warm almond eyes ran over with a tiny bundle in her arms. She curtsied lowly, her chest heaving over the top of her tightly bound yellow gown.

"Your majesty, I apologise. The cord wrapped itself round his neck. But even if that hadn't happened….the queen's body never recovered after Princess Diana's damaging birth. I highly doubt she could carry a baby to term. But if she did, it would ruin her already fragile health and there would be a strong chance of losing her during the birth" murmured Linacre.

Henry nodded numbly. He couldn't have another baby with Jane.

"Give me my son" he demanded. The tiny corpse was placed in his muscular arms.

"Perfect fit" croaked Henry, his blue eyes filling with tears. "He has my nose and Jane's cheekbones. Charles is…Charles would have been his name. Look how small his fingers are. Would he have had blue eyes like me or dazzling green like Jane's? He would have been perfect. WHY GOD! Why do you not grant me and Jane a son? One daughter, one miscarriage, one….two stillborns. Can you not see how Jane adores Diana? Can you not see how much I want…no need a son?!" shouted Henry as he analysed the infant's lifeless cody in his trembling arms.

He stroked the baby's grey cheek, surprised by the warmth.

"Linacre, you are wrong. He is alive. His skin is warm. MY SON'S ALIVE!" cackled Henry, hysterically. Lady Missledon came forwards to take the baby but the King clutched the infant tightly to his chest.

"No, your majesty. The skin can maintain warmth for up to two hours after death. Hand the Prince to Lady Missledon and she'll get Cromwell or Cranmer to arrange for him to be buried".

"My darling son" cooed Henry, kissing the top of the head of his dead Prince. Lady Missledon placed a hand on the King's shoulder to comfort him before taking the bundle.

"Don't show Jane. She'll get over-emotional" he ordered, wiping his eyes.

**Review please :D **

**Till next time xx**


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